


The Fabric of His Life

by elrhiarhodan



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Canon Death of Canon Character, Grief, Loss, M/M, Masturbation, Memories, Merry Month of Masturbation, Mourning, Percilot - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24173515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan
Summary: Percival still mourns.
Relationships: James | Lancelot/Percival (Kingsman)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14
Collections: Merry Month of Masturbation 2020





	The Fabric of His Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyele/gifts).



> Written for Day 13 of The Merry Month of Masturbation, for the prompt "Cotton".
> 
> Blame Kyele for this one, she asked for grieving Percival - she does love hurting him - and so I did as she asked (don't I always?)

Percival is never as grateful that Harry’s now Arthur as he is this week of the calendar. Harry makes sure he’s off mission rotation and gives him as much time and space as he needs. Even five years on, Percival still needs to retreat and mourn.

There’s no grave, no headstone that Percival can visit - the Spensers never approved of James’ relationship with another man and have barred Percival from the family estate. Not that Percival needs such things to mourn, he has his memories.

And a closet full of James’ clothes. 

Percival always joked that it was a good thing James worked for a tailor (ostensibly) and got a half-dozen new suits a year as part of his compensation, but the suits are the least of it. There are racks of casual wear from the finest menswear designers, more shoes than anyone could wear in a lifetime, accessories fit for a duke - or, in James’ case - a duke’s son.

But for Percival, what gives him solace is the drawer filled with James’ smallclothes. Folded stacks of softly worn cotton briefs and vests that still, somehow, contain the essence of James. In the depths of Percival’s despair, he takes out a vest and holds it to his face, letting memory cascade through him.

_It’s that last morning and James had grinned at him, damp from the shower, hair slicked back, and looking like sin. "Come on, slugabed, the world needs saving."_

_Percival had said nothing, just cupped his morning wood and started stroking himself, all the while staring at James._

_"Oh, so that’s the way it’s going to be?" James dropped his towel and straddled Percival, bringing their cocks together, jerking them off just like Percival loved._

Alone, chasing down the fading scent of James, Percival wishes he’d died, too.


End file.
